It’s a feeling unlike anything else. You have but one care in the world, the task at hand. Nobody to bug you, nothing to distract you. This is YOUR time. And you know what? Take your time. This chore isn’t meant to be rushed. But by all means, don’t say you’re “savoring” it. That’s disgusting…
I recently got a Kindle Fire, and after three days with it I can say with confidence, “Kindle Fires are kickin’ rad!” Twitter, Pandora, even MLB At-Bat, an app that allows me to watch a live baseball game unfold in my hands are all included on my Kindle.
And books! God damn are there books! Books books books. Lately, I’ve been reading “Post Office” by Charles Bukowski. But if I wanted to, I could totally download and read one of the other 129 million books in the world. For now though, if you walk by at the right time, you can hear my occasional chuckle at Bukowski’s crude sarcasm. But don’t you dare talk to me, it’s just not appropriate, you know?
The routine for this chore includes checking the box scores and reading Bob Dutton’s write-ups on yesterday’s Royals game. In between a deep exhale with my eyes closed, I wake up the previously mentioned Kindle, and swim through an endless stream of instagram’d pictures, song lyrics, and relationship updates on the Facebook app. During a prolonged session of tranquility and carelessness, I’ll start up the excellent Pulse app and scroll through a medley of newspapers, blogs, and websites bringing me the news.
I wouldn’t trade these minutes for anything. I can’t do this stuff in public, yo. That’d be awful. This feeling of lightness, peace, and serenity can’t be bought, emulated, or faked. It’s a special moment that can only be fulfilled sitting on your own familiar toilet at home. I fucking love pooping.
